


Companion

by BleedingDeath (TurtleSoup)



Series: 30 Day Writing Challenge [8]
Category: Call of Duty (Video Games), Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Love, M/M, Romance, Sleepless nights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 14:27:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18500872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurtleSoup/pseuds/BleedingDeath
Summary: Price and Soap can't sleep after what happened. They find comfort in each other late at night.





	Companion

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in one go when I came back from work last night. You'd probably be surprised that Soap is actually my favorite character despite the fact that I really only write about Ghost and Roach... Here's something different.

He sighed. The day had been long, so had the night. The stresses of the last couple days ached his body, his mind. But they had been too late. There was nothing that could have been done at that point. He _knew_ that. It didn't help.

A knock on the door.

"You still awake?"

Soap.

The dim light from the other side of the door filled the small bedroom. Price nodded, tired. He was too tired these days, it was only getting worse.

Soap entered, closing the door gently behind him, and sitting down next to Price on the bed. Price noted that Soap looked tired too. He should have been resting. "Couldn't sleep?"

"No."

Price knew there was a lot to unload in that one word. He knew how heavily everything was weighing on Soap, just as it had weighed on himself before, just as it did now even though it wasn't his team this time. Neither of them liked to let it show, but for some reason, with each other, they did. They were human. "Don't blame yourself."

"I don't."

"Then why aren't you sleeping?"

Soap looked at him, red tinged his blue eyes. "How can I sleep while he's still out there?" Anger in his voice, he wanted revenge. So did Price.

"Not sleeping won't kill him any faster. You need to rest." He had been so worried about Soap. He still was. Soap had only woken up yesterday from being wounded and was already walking about. He just wanted him to rest, to be okay. God, he just wanted him to be okay. His world had momentarily ended while Soap had been bleeding out and now his world was patched together with gauze and bandages and spite.

"What I _need_ is Makarov dead." He had that too determined look again that he had seen many times before. Always the stubborn one. That worried him too. He felt as though Soap's anger and idiocy from it would end up bursting him to flames one day. He hoped to not be around when that time came. When it came to it, Price wanted to go first, a selfish and cruel thought, but that was how things should be.

"Soap..." It was a quiet plea of 'Please get some sleep.', 'You don't need to check in on me.', 'Don't let this destroy you, please.'. There was simply too much on his mind and not much of it that he wanted to say.

"Sorry." Soap rubbed at his eyes, briefly running his hands through his hair. "You know I won't sit this one out, you know I can't do that."

He did.

It was what he expected, what he hoped for, and what he feared. He had been mad at him for it for just a moment when he had first uttered the words yesterday, but he knew he would have done the same. Every time he shut his eyes he saw the knife going into him and blood. So much blood. And when he thought of Ghost and Roach and all the good they had done and all they had yet to do, he couldn't sleep.

"John..."

Soap only used his first name in the softest moments. He loved it.

"I don't want you to die." He said it. Finally voiced his only fear out loud. It sounded silly to him. He shouldn't want anyone good to die, no one on the team should die, but especially not Soap. It couldn't be Soap. He couldn't bear it. His chest tightened a little every time it crossed his mind.

Soap's hand had found its way to his own and it rested there. Comfort. "I'm not going to die, you know I'm too stubborn for that bullshit."

But Roach had been hard to kill and he had died anyway. Soap would be no different.

"It's not that simple." It was a whisper.

"Look at me."

He did. He looked into Soap's icy blue eyes that were full of life despite all the death that surrounded them.

"It's not about whether I die, or you die, or if we both do. We have to stop him or he'll hurt more people than he already has. We're not the only ones that matter."

"I know." But he didn't believe in his own words. If they did live through this, maybe he could retire. Get a small, quiet apartment with a dog. But Soap didn't like dogs and he couldn't picture him wanting to leave this life so soon. He was in his prime, Price was not. He must have made some sort of expression in between thoughts because Soap scowled at him.

"Hey. I'm still here. John, I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere." He lifted Price's hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to his palm. The warmth made his skin tingle. "Come on." Soap laid down, patting the empty space behind Price.

He joined him, scooting in closer because the bed was too small, not being able to take his gaze off how the light caught in his eyes.

"You worry too much, old man." He teased, but he was gentle. They were both tired.

"I'm sorry we couldn't save them."

"Me too." Soap kissed his forehead, eyelids, lips.

His mind buzzed. The encroaching dark fading with each touch until they both fell asleep.

 


End file.
